Halo High
by DeathMcGunz
Summary: The Halo characters in high school; can it get any more cliche?
1. Shrink The World

This past week had been chaos for John. In a matter of seven days he'd been given a mom, a home and a school outside of military academy; it was all too much to handle. There he sat, in the house that belonged to his new mom, looking over the welcome letter the school had sent him that included his schedule and various re-printed and teacher signed greetings.

He thought back to the orphanage he had been in for the past three years of his life. How much uncertainty he had every day waking up, and how many sleepless nights he had. He would probably never see the kids that he had called family, or the nuns that had called him son. He would never again lie in the green cots that sagged under his weight and tore after a few weeks.

Looking at John you would immediately feel a pinch of fear. He stood at exactly six foot with muscles that looked carved standing off of his arms, legs and chest. His fiery red hair hung down over his forehead and around his ears, he hadn't let it grow this long since he got out of the military academy.

His face was always stern, as if he was always contemplating his next move and he probably was. In the military academy he excelled in leadership and strategic manipulation, graduating top of his junior class. It was also because he spent three years in an orphanage, keeping silent and to himself.

He sighed; looking down at his schedule made butterflies begin to circle around his lower intestine. John doesn't look it, but he was naturally a nervous person, but who could blame him. He had never gone to a normal school before, he had never participated in school activities other than the weekly dorm face-off back in military school, and he had never held a typical conversation with normal kids.

"They'll be more afraid of you than you are of them." Jilan, the dark skinned woman with the heart of gold, had told him that many times in the past few days. John had to respect her words considering she had just made the gutsiest move ever by adopting him. He was 17 years old, which made him more than likely to not get adopted and instead live by himself after another year.

When an elderly black woman stepped into the orphanage seven days ago John didn't have a clue that he would be where he was now. He owed Jilan everything at this point, she had given him an excellent home, a warm bed and the one thing that had been missing in his life; love.

She had also taken him shopping for the first time in his life. She told him that he was her kid now, and that she was going to spoil him, but he had no idea that by the end of the day she would of went through a couple thousand dollars just buying clothes. He was grateful; he was tired of wearing the ratty hand-me-downs that he had from the orphanage.

She never asked for any thanks either, the only thing she ever asked of John was that he use what she was giving him to better himself. He wasn't quite sure what she meant by that, he thought he was fine the way he was; but he couldn't let her down so he did what he could.

To keep up her streak of being an amazing foster mother, she took John to Sol Academy to register for his senior year. She encouraged him to join sports, she said it was a great way to meet new people and possibly grab a date for one of the many school dances.

John wasn't entirely interested in dances, but sports sounded nice. So while they were picking classes, John had asked the school counselor what sports they offered and he simply replied "What do you like to do?"

"I like to run." John said glancing down at green and black stripes that crisscrossed on his newly bought running shoes.

"We have track and cross country. Are you good at running long distances or running fast?"

"I'll do both." The counselor gave him a look of disbelief for a moment until he realized John was serious, and then he signed John up for both and told him 'good luck'. The counselor tapped on his desk impatiently as John marked the small boxes next to the classes he wanted to take.

After getting the paper handed to him the counselor typed in the information on his expensive computer before hitting enter on the keyboard. A few moments later and a piece of paper began to slide out of the printer with John's classes on them. He read them to Jilan as they road home.

Pre-Med – Dr. Halsey

Foreign Relations – Mr. Cutter

Student Tutor

Gym – Mr. Johnson

Lunch

Advanced Engineering – Ms. Anders

Psychology – Mr. Mendez

Astrophysics – Mr. Keyes

"What are you planning on becoming?" Jilan teased him, "A damned astronaut!"

John couldn't think of a witty reply so he just half laughed half smiled until Jilan turned the volume for the radio up to drown out the silence that he was so used to.

"You'll probably never see this house again after tomorrow," She had said as they shared dinner in the dining room of her over decorated house, "The school houses their students in dorms on campus, but don't get your panties in a bunch, you'll be seeing me a lot."

That made him feel a little better, having someone to be there for him was a huge change from the 'you have to live on your own' mentality that had been drilled into his brain his entire life. Jilan was his guiding light at this point; she had him by the ears and was showing him how to be 'normal'. No more waking up at 4 in the morning to run drills in the rain.

It was at this moment in time that John thought that there might actually be a god up there somewhere, looking down on him, helping him out. But with a knock at his new door, he was sure it wasn't god, it was Jilan.

"Uh," John stammered, not sure what to say, "Come in."

Jilan stepped in smiling that pleasant smile she always had on. She stepped over and took a seat next to John on the bed he had been using as a desk since he had gotten here.

"Tomorrow I'll drive you up to the dorms so you can get your stuff set up and you can meet a few people. You won't have class till Monday."

John glanced down at the black watch that was fastened to his wrist; it said it was Saturday. Jilan put a comforting arm around John before continuing.

"I'm sure you'll do fine dear." The butterflies seemed to scatter, leaving him feeling surprisingly empty. He lay back on his bed as Jilan got up and walked toward the door. She paused for a moment before shutting the light off and closing the door behind her.

"Thanks." John said under his breath as he kicked his shoes off and slipped out of his shirt. He drifted off into a dream. Before he knew it they were whisking off of the interstate onto a familiar street; Sol road, it leads directly to the High school slash boarding school.

They hadn't said much on the way, but they didn't have to. John wasn't sure why but he felt like Jilan knew what he was thinking, almost as if she could read minds. She always seemed to know how he was feeling, even when he couldn't show it.

They pulled through the huge steel gates that read "Sol Academy" and drove down the smooth asphalt pathway that lead to the dorm room check in. The check in process was relatively quick, John just handed the short, perky lady behind the counter his registration form and his schedule and she plugged the data into her computer. A few second later it spat out a Dorm section, House number, and Room number on a piece of paper.

"You'll be rooming with one other person John, have a nice stay at Sol Academy." She was way too perky, almost like a robot.

Jilan swerved her way over to Dorm section II and to house number seven. The vehicle jerked to a stop before John stuck a foot out of the vehicle and onto the wet ground. He quietly shut the door behind him, trying not to draw attention to himself. Jilan slammed her door before accidently hitting the "panic" button on her key ring instead of the "trunk" button. People looked at John as if it was his fault, and he didn't blame them.

"Damn thing!" Jilan said as the alarm finally stopped blaring. "Sorry about that John."

"No problem." He kept his head down as he grabbed his suitcase and backpack from the trunk.

"If you need me you'll be able to find me around campus," Jilan said as she got back in her vehicle. She waved and sped off again, swerving to dodge a car that was pulling out of a parking space. He heard her curse as her tires squealed to a stop and he couldn't help but chuckle. He grabbed his bags and headed up the stairs into the beginning of his new life.

Getting to his dorm was easy; it was on the first floor all the way down on the right. The door number was 117 and he kept repeating it to himself as he stepped up to it. He pushed it open to reveal a spacey room that only held two desks and a bunk bed in the far corner. It was the biggest room he had ever laid eyes on, but it was also the most vacant.

The top bunk had a suitcase already laying on it, so John just tossed his backpack on the bottom bunk and dropped his suitcase at the foot of the bed. He looked around not sure what to do next; he remembered back in the military academy when he tried to un-pack before his roommate showed up and the guy beat him into a pulp for it. It still didn't make much sense, but nothing ever does.

He unzipped his backpack and took out the laptop that Jilan had bought him and placed it on the desk that was connected to the right corner of the room.

"Already claiming a desk eh?" It was a female's voice coming from the door way behind John. "You must be my roomy, I'm Linda."

"I'm John." John said as he turned to face Linda. He wasn't sure what shocked him more, the fact that they allowed co-ed sex roommates or the fact that Linda's dark hair was hanging perfectly across the right side of her face, giving her this mysterious look. He couldn't help but smile to himself.

"You're new here right?" This is the first person he's seen and everyone already knows he's new.

"Uh, yeah." John said rubbing the back of his head.

They sat in silence for a bit, the only sound was of people in the hallway mingling and getting settled, until Linda walked over to the bunk and grabbed her backpack.

"If you want the top you can have it, I just wasn't sure if anyone but me liked it."

"No," John stammered, "I don't mind being on bottom."

Linda giggled a little bit at the unintentionally sexual joke and John gave her an inquisitive look until her realized what she was implying; the he smiled a bit.

"Well, I just came back to grab my MP3, so I'll see you later." She walked away before John could say another word, but it didn't matter since he wasn't going to.

He walked over and slipped into his bunk and starred up at the support that kept the top bunk from falling onto him. Then he tried to take a nap; tomorrow was going to be a rough day.


	2. The After Life of the Party

Somewhere, deep in the ONI advanced robotics and space engineering facility in Sol New York, papers stirred; files were opened and a search was begun. Names were flung about like spit wads in a Jr. High band room as the lower workers scrambled to find someone suitable for the company's "Spartan II" project.

You might be asking, why "Spartan II?" and the answer is as simple as 'the first Spartan died'; He was struck down by the very man that now runs ONI. That man is being considered the core reason that Sol city is as big as it is now; sky scrapers, prestigious schools, and the headquarters to the most innovative robotics company known to man.

The Spartan II project is his attempt to create a "super-soldier" using technology developed by his ONI Company, their test subject being someone expendable and controllable, but as of now they didn't have any candidates. Everyone's head was in a blur as they rushed from desk to desk, cabinet to cabinet trying to find the perfect person to acquire.

Then they found him; top graduate from the Janus Military School at age 14, orphan since the age of six and currently boarding at a school partially funded by ONI associates. His credentials are top notch, not a smudge on his record, his ASVAB and SAT scores were flawless, but he doesn't have any living family to claim him; perfect prey.

An ONI agent was tasked with bringing him in for "questioning" before he could be fully involved in the project. So on a piece of paper the agent received, was written the name of the candidate and the room number of which he was currently bunking in.

John, 117.

Running, screaming, calling out, nothing.

John sprung awake as a piercing flash shown bright through the half closed blinds covering the window, shortly afterwards the low rumbling of thunder filled his ears. He rubbed his eyes as he looked around the room, forgetting the past week for a moment.

The room was bare except for the two suitcases that lay on the floor and the computers that were set up on the desks located in the far corners. The four walls reverberated the slow rythematic sound of Linda's breathing, and the offbeat tempo of the rain tapping on the window. John licked his lips and slid out from his bunk onto the carpeted floor.

Another piercing light caused Linda's silent sleeping pattern to stir. Her shoulders jerked throwing the blanket off of her body and causing her to turn and face the wall. John reached up and pulled the blanket back on to her body. She felt cold so he grabbed his blanket and tossed it over her, adding to the warmth. She'd need it more than he ever would.

He stood there watching her for a moment. Even outside of military school some people still couldn't sleep calmly. He could tell by the way her muscles were tightening and contracting and the way her shoulder twitched that something bad was going on in her head. There was a feeling of sadness inside of John and he almost wanted to wake her up and tell her it was all just a bad dream, that she's safe here. But he was never sure when he was safe himself.

Trying to be quiet and succeeding, John exited out the door into the hallway. It was barren and dark, reminding him of the many nightmares he'd had of a strange man chasing him down a never ending hallway. He felt a chill run down his spine that was as cold as ice and that's when he noticed the glimmer in the dark at the end of the hallway.

It was a person, whether it was a man or a woman was not clear. They were standing erect with their hands tucked deep into their pockets. The figure could see John, he was sure of that, but it had yet to notice that he saw it. John, being the clever man he is, kept his pulse low like he was still asleep as he shuffled toward the figure. Its eyes followed him every step of the way.

John didn't know what he was going to do. He felt that this might be a nightmare but even in nightmares you're not supposed to let the creepy figure get you. He looked over to where the figure was standing and it was gone. John let a sigh of relief realizing he was probably just being paranoid. Then he felt two gloves, one over his mouth and the other constricting his arms, before the needle entered his skin.

***

The dreams happened again. John was running, screaming, calling out and nothing was there to save him. He kept running with this unknown figure chasing him hoping that someone would save him but no one ever did. Eventually he'd get tired and the figure would get him. That's how it always happens. Luckily John wakes up before that happens.

This time waking up might not have been the best thing. He was alone, sitting in a chair in the middle of a wide open warehouse structure. He was sure that wherever he was he was underground, because the temperature was way below 'room temperature' and there's always that weird feeling when you're underground; almost like you're closer to death.

Well he had that feeling along with the feeling of a drug slowly wearing off, allowing his brain to take control again. Without even thinking he was able to get his hands out of the handcuffs the figure had placed on him, but he decided to keep them on. He was trained to do way too many things and intelligence gathering was one of his better subjects.

After a few moments no one entered, and John realized he was alone, left underground to die slowly. Unless whoever put him there knew he would get out of the handcuffs. That was up for speculation but John was almost certain that he wasn't supposed to die here. That would be way too easy.

The handcuffs hit the ground with a resounding 'clunk' noise and he was up in a flash, his eyes darting back and forth looking for anything that could be moving. There was nothing, so he bolted toward a slightly shaded over door with rust spots splattered across it like paint. Seeing the weak chain wrapped around the handles to the pathetic excuse for a door, John lifted his leg a moment before he would have slammed into it, allowing his leg to knock the door from its hinges and into the shadowy abyss that lay behind it.

He didn't waste any time as he continued running into the growing darkness, his eyes adjusting slightly faster than most normal human's would. He could make out shapes, which meant seeing doorways and adjoining hallways, so he continued running at a quickened pace hoping that someone didn't lay a trap in front of him hugging the ground.

The hallway split off in many different twists and turns, and using his intuiting John picked the paths that seemed warmer, meaning they were closer to ground level, or maybe that they were just heated by some sort of machine. Either way it meant he was getting away from the desolate part he had awoken in or closer to a possible exit.

Two doors, both looking sleek with their chrome exteriors, gleamed in the seemingly no light of the hallway and caught John's attention. He stopped at them for a moment, listening and waiting. His hand went out and touched it and it sent a wave of cold across his body making the goose bumps standoff of his skin. Pressing it open, a piercing light shone through onto his face.

With his eyes clenched he walked into the slightly ajar door and into a room fitted with highly advanced-looking technology. There were wires crisscrossing and computers buzzing and beeping all making calculations of different variety. John's eyes adjusted quickly and he was able to take in the full effect of the room. The walls were steel, like that of the door, and it retained a circular shape as it raised high in to the air like a cylinder. He imagined himself at the top of it, breathing in the fresh air; hopefully the sun had risen so he would feel the heat on his chilled skin.

His eyes caught something as he gazed around in wonder. In the center of this cylinder there was a container, a large box shaped container with tons of wires running into it and monitors screwed on to the sides, showing logistics and several other bits of information. John stepped closer to it, looking for a way to get it open; curiosity always got the best of him.

Reluctantly one of the computer monitors mounted on the outside of the container had a keyboard attached to it, and the screen itself read "ENTER PASSWORD". John reached his hand out and placed his fingers on the proper spots of the keyboard, his mind racing for a password to try out on this container, hoping that it would open on his first try.

"117." He said it aloud as he typed it. A large hissing sound filled his ear as steam shot from the sides of the container. His eyes went wide as he realized he had actually gotten it right on his first try, and with his room number. He'd ponder that later, right now he just wanted to see what the container in question was holding in its confines, its air-tight confines.

Green, shiny green; the first thing he saw when the steam mixed with the air was the gleaming green of it all. It was magnificent, all of it. The shape, the molding, the architecture of it all made his knees quiver under his weight. It seemed like a pinnacle of something, that something he was not sure of though. It was green though, and oh was it a captivating green.

It looked vivacious and ferocious as it stood unmoving in the now open container. John starred at it, his jaw brushing the floor, hoping that it would move on its own. The bends and curves of it made it appear to have been forged by Thor's mighty hammer, and the green seemed to be painter by none other than Vincent Vaughn Gogh himself.

"Suiting protocol enacted." A computerized voice filled John's head, almost making his ears ring. His body tensed up as mechanical arms tore the suit to pieces and brought it slowly towards him. All while the arms were picking it apart, a black latex-looking liquid was being poured onto John. It began to solidify as it reached his torso, covering everything chin down in a skin tight, weightless material. He could feel the air through it as if he was naked, but he also felt the comfort of it almost as if someone was hugging against him.

The mechanical arms took the suit, which was in pieces by now, and began placing it upon John's body in the appropriate locations. First the shin guards, front then back, then forearm gauntlets which expanded out before locking back in tightly against his now covered skin. Next came the thigh shielding, followed by bicep and upper arm.

The pelvic casing came next, fitting to John's form in a surprisingly comfortable way. As the hand armor was being placed, the ankle guards were secured and expanding into his sturdy, clunking boots. The chest and back exterior were placed at the same time as two steel fastenings setting on the ribs, secured together with a pop, click and hiss.

Last came the helmet, which was placed slowly, temporarily rendering John's eyesight completely useless. There was an all encompassing blackness that filled his vision as several more pops, clicks and hisses filled the surrounding. The visor became translucent as several beeps and drones came in through the helmet's speakers, representing the multitude of diagnostics that were being run on the suit before it could become fully operational.

John's heart was beating vicariously and he was sure that any minute he would awaken back in his new dorm room, Linda still breathing quietly and the lighting still cracking in the sky. He took a deep breath and remembered when those special operatives had jumped him in military school. Suddenly his adrenaline induced fear convulsed and changed into adrenaline induced excitement; a trick his old drill instructor had taught him.

"Mjolnir Powered Assault Armor fully operational." The computer voice hummed in again, this time through the armor. "Have a nice day." Its voice was scarily cheery.


	3. Scatterbrain

The night was cold yet vibrant. Each star seemed to pop out of the sky, shining its radiance onto the green mass that moved through it. The city lights down below made a gentle sea of white and yellow that John stared at as he passed over. He had no idea the city was so big, not even from his perch could he see the outer reaches.

"Now passing over Genga Groves," The cheerful, robotic voice spoke into John's helmet frequently, which is something most people would be annoyed by. John on the other hand, enjoyed it. John looked down, seeing the three story tall building known as "the Groves" pass by.

They suit piloted like a jet, but at the same time, it didn't. It was controlled by movement when on the ground; it was like an extension of his body. When he had entered it, it was as simple as walking forward and jumping to get him into the air. But now that he was here, it was more like being an airplane.

There were thrusters on the boots and stabilizers on the hands, but they weren't for turning. It was like how a motorcycle has the handlebars but you don't use them to turn, you just use them for balance. To turn, John simply had to lean; let the wind do it, as the suit had said when he asked.

"What is this thing?" He had also asked.

The suit replied by saying, "This is the Mjolnir Powered Assault Armor, Mark Four. It was designed by [File Deleted] for the purposes of the Spartan program."

John had left it at that, not really wanting to ruin the dream that he was sure he'd wake from. In the back of his mind he knew that wasn't true, he knew he was awake, but there wasn't any way for him to convince himself that something like that existed. Let alone that he was in control of it, soaring over a city that he had only been in for a couple weeks.

Military school training had taught him to 'go with what was given', so at the moment, that's what he was doing. He had this suit, whatever it was actually capable of was not at the forefront of his mind, and he was flying. Whatever came next would either be terrible or suspenseful. But from where he was sitting, everything felt like it would turn out ok.

The suit was nice enough, it spoke when spoken too, it answered what it was asked…

"What's the 'Spartan program'?" John felt stupid for not asking this earlier.

"It was designed by [file deleted] to train a person, most likely a soldier, on how to use the Mjolnir armor in the defense of national security. Said trained person would be best suited if they lacked the following; family, friends, social standing, free will (though the last one could be dealt with).

"There were many candidates, including [declared M.I.A] and [declared M.I.A], but they both were declared M.I.A during phase one of the program."

"Phase one?" John went with what was given. "Is there a phase two?"  
"Phase two, or Spartan II, was begun several days ago."

"What's the difference between phase one and two?"

"Phase one was a failure. Phase two built upon it in many ways. Advanced testing, better equipment and funding, and it is being conducted in secret."

"What do you mean by secret?" John felt like he was getting somewhere, though he wasn't sure why he wanted to.

"It was privately funded by Parangosky, Margaret, Director of Oni, for the sole purpose of: insert role; private body guard. All national security protocol was stripped from the project. Only one candidate was found and located; currently detained by Ackerson, James."

John felt odd. For some reason he felt that he had gone to far, but when in doubt, 'dig deeper'.

"Who is the candidate?"

"John, top graduate from the Janus Military School at age 14, orphan since the age of six and currently boarding at a school partially funded by ONI associates. His credentials are top notch, not a smudge on his record, his ASVAB and SAT scores were flawless, but he doesn't have any living family to claim him. Was boarding in room 117 until detained."

There was a twinge when John's heart popped. He felt drugged but knew he wasn't. He felt sick but, again, knew he wasn't.

'It's me?' He asked himself. 'I'm the candidate? That's why that guy grabbed me. But they still don't know I've escaped.'

"Computer, entry change." He waited for response but then realized there wouldn't be one. "Released by Ackerson, comma, James. Reason stated, colon…" John thought long and hard, trying to think of a reason that would suit the head of ONI when she sat down to read the report. "Quote, 'cause I felt like it. End quote. End entry change."

"Rodger, entry updated."

John smiled. He felt powerful where he was, up in the clouds, surrounded by a high-tech piece of secret government equipment. It was a dream come true, and John had no idea what to do with it.

"Bring up a list of the operations."

"Aye." The suit said with a flair of righteousness. When the list popped up, John's jaw dropped. There were over a million and of the ones he could see on the HUD, none of them made any sense what so ever. So he asked the computer to 'slim them down to the basic ones' and it did. The list was smaller now, only about a hundred, and each seemed to be pretty simple.

There was the GPS, which John assumed was what made the computer talk whenever they passed over a landmark. There was LIFESUPPORT, FLIGHTCONTROLS, AUTOPILOT [OFF], and the one that stuck out to him the most was POLICESCANNER [OFF]. Now why would a suit like this have a police scanner built in, he asked himself, making the motion with his eyes to turn it on.

"POLICESCANNER [ON]. Now scanning…" There was a series of beeps and hums.

"What is there even a police scanner on this thing?"

"National Security."

"I thought you said all of that stuff was stripped from the program."  
"Some things are better left alone, or should I rephrase that…some things are _cheaper_ is they are left alone."

John smiled to himself. He felt like a super hero, that was as simple as it could be. He felt like he was in power and it actually dawned on him that he could use it. That in of itself was a great feeling; just knowing that he could do something. He didn't think he would, because that would be absolutely ridiculous. But he could.

"Scanning complete. Most severe danger to National Security located. Four blocks south, one block east. AUTOPILOT [ON]."

"No, no, no, no. Autopilot off!" John looked down at the city, it still looked like a sea of light, but it was getting more in focus. Which meant they were descending. "Autopilot off!"

"Command not found. Auto reaction to scan indicated that I should take control until severe danger rating is lowered to moderate." John was just shaking his head, saying 'no' repeatedly. His heart was racing just like it had been before, except this time he didn't think the old trick he was taught would work.

"One block east." The computer said, steering the suit (and John) down towards police cruisers. There were two, back to back, in front of a tavern. It had a lighted sign of a woman bent over looking through her legs at anyone who happened to be walking by. Above that was the name, "Jenny's Lucky Star". The cruisers were empty and their policemen were on the far side of them, their guns out and pointed towards the tavern.

"Scan indicated three armed gunmen inside, ten hostages. Odds of winning are 85%, Odds of casualties is 0%." The computer paused here, as if it wanted John to say something, but he was completely stunned. "COMBATMODE [ON]."

In the blink of an eye, so quick that John barely caught it, a gun snapped up from the thigh armor and landed in his right hand. He felt the cold steel of the handle, even through the armor. After staring at it he felt himself lunge forward, thrusters turning off and putting him into a free fall.

The fall only lasted three seconds and it was the most amazing thing John had ever witnessed. The suit was completely silent as it fell towards the tavern, and when it was only a foot away, John's arms shot out, breaking the boards with a low 'crack'. There was no other noise as the suit flipped so that it's feet landed first.

All of a sudden, John was in the middle of a hostage situation. The three guys in front of him, with their backs turned. They hadn't heard a thing. The suit raised the gun and pulled the trigger twice. There wasn't a loud bang, but there was a hiss of air as a small bulb was projected out of the barrel, sending a high dose electrical charge into two of the gunmen. They dropped like rocks and as the third one turned to face the man responsible, the suit let go of the gun and it snapped back to the thigh.

"Threat level reduced. Proceed with caution." John watched the AUTOPILOT go from [ON] to [OFF] and felt full control of the suit come back to him. His heart beat shot through the roof as the gunmen turned to him, his eyes wide and his gun raised. It was a smith and Wesson, and old model but still dangerous. The specs of it appeared on John's HUD as he stared helpless.

"What? What are you? How did you get in here?" The gunman sounded fragile and was on the verge of going into cardiac arrest from what the Blood pressure monitor on John's HUD said. John didn't answer, basically afraid to reveal that he was just a kid. So the gunman fired.

John shot his arm up, faster than the speed of sound, just as fast as the bullet actually, and caught it in the palm of his hand. He felt the gauntlet around his forearm adjust to the pressure of the speeding projectile, so that his arm wouldn't give way to the force.

John stared helplessly for only a moment until he saw that the gunman looked the exact same. The gun trembled in his hand and his eyes were watering. He was more afraid of John that John was of him (and he could understand why). John remembered the time the kids jumped him at the military academy, and changed his fear into excitement.

The gunman began to turn, but John was already in front of him. Two quick movements, John grabbed the man's arm and twisted. It flipped the gunman head over heels until he landed on his back with a hollow grunt. John then delivered a rapid punch to the man's abdomen.

"Threat level, nonexistent. Congratulations!" Confetti and streamers burst forth from the suit, falling lifelessly onto the body of the previously dangerous gunman. John flew from the hole the suit had created in the roof, just as the cops kicked in the door, preparing their eyes to see dead hostages, when in reality all they saw was an embarrassed criminal.

** So what do you think so far? Do you see where this is going yet? Thank you all for reading and hopefully reviewing. I know it's been forever since I updated this story, but sometimes it's hard. The next chapter should finish up the introduction section of this story so stay tuned.**


	4. A Dustland Fairytale

**1.**

It wasn't until the sun peaked up on over the horizon of that Sunday morning that John headed for home. Well, it was a good a home as any. He supposed he should call it school, but no school he had been too had been so nice to him, or had a bed as nice as his room had.

"Autopilot, on. Take me home." John spoke with a sense of disbelief. He felt like a fighter pilot on his way back to base after accomplishing a daring mission. It wasn't but a few hours ago that John had saved those hostages' lives, well the suit had done a lot of the work on its own, but he had delivered the final blow.

On the radio, and the few news stations John could pick up on his HUD, they had been talking about a daring rescue attempt by an certain officer Brown of the Sol Police Department. He was a rookie with a big heart and a gut of steel, the news casters kept saying. They said he stormed in and took down three armed guards without injuring the hostages. He was 'modest' of course. He kept repeating that if it weren't for his partner he wouldn't have gotten out alive. His partner wasn't available for comment.

John merely smiled at it all. His mind went the possibility that someone might have seen him and the repercussions that would have. Who knows what they would do to him? So he was unbelievably relieved when he found out that he had gotten away without being noticed (or so he thought).

"Predestination set as home was deleted. New destination must be set." John thought for a moment before setting a destination.

"Sol academy," he said. "Room 117."

"Rodger, [INSERT NAME]." The robot's voice went low toward the end. John noticed that whenever something was missing, the robot's voice went from mimicking human speech, to just becoming a metallic hum from some subroutine deep in the suits coded system.

"John. My name is John."

"Rodger, John. All routes leading to [INSERT NAME] will redirect to John." The voice sounded as cheery as it had when John first stepped into the suit. "Nice to meet you. You can call me [COMPUTER], [FRIEND], [BUDDY], [PAL], and if you happen to be of Latino decent, [AMIGO] is also acceptable."

"Nice to meet you too, Computer."

Together they glided through the crisp morning air, the Sol academy appearing as several large buildings all interconnected by sidewalks and roads that spread over a four cubic block area. It grew larger as they got closer and closer. The detail and sheer size of the school made John think back to the Janus military academy. It was there that he had learned what he knew about protection and integrity. Mainly he learned how to take care of himself. But those thoughts quickly disappeared as he noticed he wasn't slowing down as they got closer and closer to his dorm room.

"Computer, why aren't we slowing down?"

"We have yet to reach our destination."

"I don't care, we need to slow down or we're gonna…" Then there was a crash as they flew through the window opposite the door. John tumbled onto the carpeted floor, rolled forwards and slammed into the wall with a resounding thud. He didn't feel injured but his head was immediately filled with worries. What if someone came in? What if they saw me? What about…John turned to look at the top bunk. Miraculously, Linda was not present. He breathed a sigh of relief.

"Computer, what do we do? How do I take this armor off."

"Not to worry, John. Whenever the Mjolnir Powered Assault armor is no longer needed you simply activate command [POWEROFF]." The voice was still peppy and happy. Well it obviously had no idea that John was on the verge of taking a dump in his pants.

"Ok, ok, ok. Activate command, power off!" There was a high pitched hum that entered John's ears as the HUD died, rendering his vision useless once again. But then he could see again, and this time without a screen in between him and the world. The helmet seemed to fold downwards into the chest piece, as did the arms. The boots folded up and went to the shins then the thighs, and then they too folded up into the chest. Then it all folded up into a spherical shape on John's chest.

The shape glowed as the black under-suit that coated all of John's body (excluding his head) rolled back off of his skin. It look like scales that retracted into more scales until he was standing in the boxers he went to bed in. The spherical shape stopped glowing and dropped from his chest to the floor.

John stared at it. It looked like a green belt buckle, in the shape of a half-orb, no bigger than his fist. It's surface was clean and polished, shining and emerald color that John found absolutely beautiful. He began to bend down and touch it when there was a knock at the door. His gut instinct kicked the object under the bunk-bed and out of sight.

"Uh," John stammered. "Come in?" It was more of a question, but the person on the other side of the door didn't seem to notice, for they pushed open the door with a look of confusion and frustration on their face. It was a male, looked to be middle aged with thinning hair and dressed for bed. John knew that somehow he had been woken up because of him and he felt cornered.

"What the hell is going on in here?" The man asked, his eyes going from John to the window, back to John then back to the window. John thought quick and replied.

"What do you mean, sir?" The man seemed to like being called sir, but it didn't stop him from looking pissed.

"What do you mean, 'what do I mean'? I was called up here, at five thirty in the morning because someone was complaining about a racket!" There was a pause before he added, "And your damn window's busted!"

"Sir, I can explain. The storm last night, it busted out our window."

"What? How? There was no hail or anything."

"It was a twig, a branch really. Linda, my roommate, was taking it outside to dispose of it."

"Uh huh, likely story. What was all the noise then?"

"Well it was me, waking up to the surprise that the window had been broken. I tripped trying to avoid stepping on all of the glass." The man's expression was perplexed as he studied John, then the window, then John again.

"Alright young man, we'll just have to ask your roommate about this!"

"Ask me about what?" Linda was there, in the door way, her eyes followed the same path as the middle aged man's had. They went to John, then to the window (a hint of shock appearing on her face) then back to John.

"This man says that a twig,"

"A branch, sir."

"A branch came through your window last night. Is that true, Linda?" The way the man said her name made John think that he knew her. He felt even more cornered than he did before.

"It's the truth." Her eyes averted from John to the man.

"Now, don't lie to me, Linda. I know your father as you very well know. One call and I can have you sent home for the semester. You don't want to be behind all of your classmates do you?" Linda eyed John again, not even seeming to hear what the mad had to say.

"I wouldn't lie, sir. It's the truth."

"Then what were you doing, just now that is before you came in?"

"I was getting rid of the branch of course." John held back his relief and merely stared at the girl he had only met yesterday. She looked the man firm in the eyes as she spoke, something that John might have found difficult.

"Alright, Linda. I'll take your word." The man's face went from anger to reprieve and he turned to exit the room. "Just stay out of trouble and clean up that glass." The door shut leaving Linda and John standing in the room. John's face pulled back into a smile and Linda's as well.

"Thank you, ma'am." John said. Linda shot him a look that said 'what'd you call me'.

"I'm no ma'am, Mister."

"Ok, then thank you miss." Linda laughed and slapped John on the back.

"No problem. It's all in a days work. Now, are you gonna tell me what actually happened in here?"

"It was a twig…a branch really." John gave her a smirk before turning away and going to clean up the glass. All of a sudden it all hit him; he had gotten away with it.

**2.**

"What happened?"

"Well, sir, uh ma'am, you see…"  
"I don't want your damn excuses! Just tell me what happened!"

"He was tricky, he tricked me, he, uh, uh…"

"You underestimated him." The voice was quiet but fierce. "You stupid sunovabitch! He was chosen for a reason! And now, guess what? Can you guess, Ackerson?"

"Well, ma'am…"

"He's got the suit and we don't have clearance to go after it. Do you know why? Don't even answer, of course you don't. You're a damn nitwit." Ackerson flinched, trying to hold his ground. "Because, in the records, it's reported that he isn't fit to be part of the program. And even though I'm the boss, certain protocols have to be followed to insure discrepancy. Do you understand you little shit?"

"Yes, ma'm."  
"No. No you don't." A long gap of silence stretched out before them, as the female shifted in her leather chair. "It means we're going to have to find a way around protocol. And I know just the way."

"I'm sure you do, ma'am."  
"Of course I do. I should have known you would screw it up, and that's my fault. I won't take your word again."

"But, sir, uh, I mean, ma'am."

"Silence." The voice was calm, cool, collected. "Now here's what we're going to do…"

James Ackerson listened intently, making little mental notes whenever something important came up, and it was all important. When 'the boss' was done telling her plan, James exited the building and got in his government marked vehicle and headed south down Drew Avenue. He had a stop to make; he had several stops to make.

**Thanks for reading and reviewing! This concludes the introduction of this story. Think of it as the one hour season opener of a T.V show. I'm going to write the story in episodes, every two (sometimes three) chapters will be an episode, and I plan on making this work like a super hero cartoon (like the ones we used to watch on Saturday mornings). I hope you like it! **


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